


Staring Shadows in the Eye

by ironxprince



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/pseuds/ironxprince
Summary: Tony Stark has been kidnapped.He's been kidnapped many times before, and so this wouldn't normally phase him - except this time, Peter's with him. And their kidnapper doesn't want to hurt them, they want a family.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 27
Kudos: 322





	Staring Shadows in the Eye

Someone was following them. Had been for a while. Peter felt their presence in everything he did, every step he took, every move he made - but it had been days, almost a week, and he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, so he let it go.

That was a mistake.

Doc Oc had returned, but that wasn’t the issue. Sure, Peter was a little outmatched in what seemed to be their biannual battle, but his mentor-turned-adoptive-father Tony Stark came to his rescue, and in no time the “doctor”’s four green, slimy-looking tentacles were lying in a heap on the pavement, with no damage other than some green slime coasting Peter’s red-and-blue suit. Tony flew away as soon as the battle was over, and Peter waited to ensure the police arrived before he swung off in the opposite direction, but they rendezvoused on the same rooftop, the same one they did after every battle.

Sometimes, post-battle, the adoptive father-and-son duo couldn’t just return home and call it a night. Sometimes, they had to cool down, and therefore, they found a roof, an apartment roof, that seemed to overlook the entire city, the glowing lights of Stark tower just visible in the distance - a reminder of home, always within arms’ reach, but never suffocating.

That night was no different. They left the wreckage in different directions, a few minutes apart, as not to arouse suspicion, so when Peter swung onto the rooftop a few minutes later Tony was already there in the Iron Man suit, minus the helmet, his feet dangling over the edge of the building as his hands were placed steadily on the gravel behind him. He watched Peter with a tired, though amused, grin as the boy landed gracefully on the roof and stumbled to a stop a few steps away. He pulled off his mask and his hair fluffed up, untainted by sweat that would usually be coating the average person’s body after a battle such as that, but he was unbothered, especially with the cool, autumn midnight air surrounding him on all sides.

Peter gave Tony a wide grin as he stumbled to the man’s side and fell to his knees before shifting his weight to pull them out from under him and set them over the edge of the roof, mirroring Tony’s position. Tony scoffed before looking out across the city.

“Good job,” Tony complimented lightly but not meaninglessly.

“You too.”

The two sat in comfortable silence, echoes of sirens and horns gently flowing up from beneath them. Peter took a deep breath of cool air as he tilted his head back and tried to see the stars - he never spotted any - before a sharp pain erupted at the back of his neck. Peter flinched forward as his left hand flew to it, but he had to pull his hand away to keep the transfer of small rocks, remnants of the gravel rooftop, away from his already sensitive skin.

Tony’s head turned sharply to face him. “Everything alright?”

It took Peter a moment to force his eyes up to Tony’s. The sharp, stabbing pain didn’t subside, and a sudden feeling of panic overcame him. He looked around the rooftop but saw nothing, and dragged his eyes back to Tony’s.

“No,” he whispered quickly, and Tony sat up straighter, serious and ready to help. “I’ve been feeling off all week, and my- my spider-sense has been going haywire, every day, but I never saw anything and so I dismissed it-”

“Okay,” Tony interrupted, voice soft and soothing despite the obvious panic on his face. He reached his hands forward and placed them gently on Peter’s shoulders, anchoring him to the earth. “Breathe, Pete, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay-”

“Someone’s stalking us.”

Tony withdrew his hands and his brow furrowed. “How do you know?”

Peter shrugged helplessly and his eyes scoured the rooftop once more, unable to focus on anything but the irrational fear, which, his beliefs increased with every passing moment, wasn’t so irrational.

“I have a…  _ feeling _ ,” Peter whisper-shouted, eyes wild and constantly in motion. Tony knew better than to dismiss Peter’s “feelings”.

“Okay. That’s alright, bud, we’ll figure it out. Everything will be okay-” But Tony couldn’t finish his sentence, because suddenly a loud, high-pitched sound erupted from- from seemingly all around him.

Tony didn’t know what it felt like when your eardrums ruptured, but he guessed this was it. He clasped his hands over his ears but it did nothing to muffle the sound, which was echoing in his mind, vibrating the depths of his soul- but no matter how much it pained him, no matter how much he worried that he might be  _ splitting apart from the inside _ , there was only one thought in his mind.

_ Peter _ .

If the sound,  _ whatever  _ it was, hurt him, it was most likely  _ devastating  _ for Peter with his enhanced senses. Tony forced his eyes open (he hadn’t realized they had been closed) and searched wildly for Peter, locating him just in time to find him-

Toppling off the roof.

Tony stumbled to the edge, heart beating loud in his ears - but not loud enough to be heard over the screams. No, he was moreso feeling the  _ vibrations  _ of his heartbeat, and maybe it was that, or maybe it was the ear-splitting noise, but either way, by the time Tony looked over the edge of the roof, all he saw was black. Empty space, night without the stars, far below him but rising fast. Peter was nowhere to be seen, gone, swallowed by the darkness - and now it was rising to take him.

Tony was fixed in place. His feet seemed to be sinking into the gravel as the darkness rose like a tidal wave, arching high above him. Hairs tingled on the back of his neck, the breath of a presence right behind him, before the wave collapsed inward, and took him with it.

⑇

Peter peeled his eyes open to a  _ massive  _ headache, the light purple ceiling spinning above him-

Wait.

His bedroom ceiling wasn’t light purple. No ceiling he had ever  _ seen  _ was light purple.

The insistent pounding in his head grew stronger and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut in pain, constant questions circling just above the cyclone of pain.  _ Where am I? What happened? Why does my head hurt? Where’s To- _

Peter’s eyes flew open once more, pain shoved to the back of his mind.  _ Tony. Tony. Tony. Find Tony _ .

The first thing he noticed was the room. It was surprisingly…  _ pleasant _ , filled with neutral tones, shades of brown and tan, from the four walls to the solitary wardrobe across Peter’s bed with the beige bedsheets. As Peter fought the pounding in his head to sit upright, he found two exceptions to the colour scheme - Tony, lying asleep in the bed to Peter’s left, and the set of handcuffs that secured both of their wrists to their respective headboards.

Peter’s heart started beating loud in his ears and his breathing quickened and- Okay. And his handcuffs broke. Maybe super strength + anxiety = success?

Peter didn’t have time to dwell on his good luck now. He didn’t know where they were or who had them, and Tony was  _ still  _ asleep-

_ Shit _ .

A sudden, horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind. What if Tony  _ wasn’t  _ asleep? What if he- he was-

In a moment Peter was jumping off the bed, silver bangle and half the chain hanging from his left wrist, and bounded to Tony’s side. His breathing was elevated and he felt the beginnings of a panic attack as he collapsed beside Tony’s bed, his chin resting on the mattress just inches from the older man’s.

“Tony,” he whispered urgently, tears stinging the back of his eyes. Every second he spent in this weird place with an ominous white door in the corner, without Tony - the urgency to escape only grew. “ _ Tony _ ,” he begged again. What was wrong with Tony? Why wasn’t he responding? Was he- Could he possibly be-

For one painstaking, heart-stopping moment, there was no response. And then, he stirred. Tony’s feet shuffled and he readjusted himself before blinking his eyes open, and Peter’s heart seemed to tap dance in his chest.  _ Okay _ . They were in a new place, kidnapped by… well, Peter didn’t even know who, but they were a  _ them _ . They were together, Tony and Peter, and they could handle anything together.

Tony’s expression morphed from one of cloudy, hazed confusion, to a gentle smile when he saw Peter- “ _ Hey, kid _ -” and then his eyes narrowed. And then they widened.

He bolted upright, the handcuffs jangling loudly as they connected with the headboard. He stiffened as his eyes shot to the silver, then to Peter, and then around the horribly tan room.

“Hey. Mister- Mister  _ Stark _ -” Peter raised his hands in front of him, palms out, and Tony settled suddenly, chest heaving.

“Kid, what the-” The terrified look on Peter’s face must’ve sent a message, because Tony quieted his outburst to a whisper. “What in the world is going on? Where are we?”

Peter took a settling breath (it didn’t work) and stood so he could reach Tony’s handcuffs and snap the chain, Tony’s quizzical eyes (with fear behind them he was trying to hide) following him. Peter settled on the edge of the bed beside Tony, looking around warily, as Tony inspected the bangle on his right wrist.

“I-I don’t know,” Peter whispered, eyes never coming to a stop. “I woke up here, and I had my own handcuffs, and I had to break the chain- I have this  _ massive  _ headache, and I have no idea what happened, or how we got here-”

Tony cursed under his breath and Peter sat up straighter, freezing when Tony turned toward him and sandwiched Peter’s face in his hands.

“Geez, kid, you fell off a  _ building _ .” Peter’s eyes widened in complete and utter  _ shock  _ \- how could he not remember falling off a building? - but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Tony was turning Peter’s head in different directions, searching for injuries.

“Wha-  _ Tony! _ ” Peter swatted Tony’s hands away before continuing his wary search of the room. “Why don’t we  _ get out of here _ before you start mother-henning!”

Tony sighed deeply and began scanning the room. He tapped twice on his arc reactor with his right hand to summon the suit to him, and reached his left to brush lightly against Peter’s fingers before grabbing the kid’s hand and rubbing his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. Peter flinched in surprise before turning and meeting Tony’s eyes, smiling lightly at him and leaning closer into his side. Peter was enhanced, sure. He was a hero. He was  _ Spider-Man _ \- but he had never been kidnapped before. This was uncharted territory, and the reassuring touch was appreciated.

Tony didn’t know where his suit was as he summoned it. He remembered being in it when the darkness rose, but… he suppressed a shiver, suddenly remembering the presence he felt behind him before he blacked out. Peter didn’t seem to remember what happened before they blacked out. He didn’t remember falling. He  _ definitely  _ didn’t remember the figure that was standing right behind Tony, so close Tony could feel their breath on his neck-

_ No _ . Tony forced his breathing to remain even, his shoulders relaxed. Peter was right beside him. They were literally touching, and so any evidence that Tony was even the slightest bit scared, any shaking hands or even an elevated heartbeat, would definitely make Peter aware of the seriousness of their situation.

Had the person who caused all this taken Tony’s suit? What were they doing with it? What did they want? Why did they take both Tony,  _ and  _ Peter?

Peter’s identity was common knowledge. His status as Tony’s adopted son was nothing they even remotely  _ tried  _ to hide, and so Tony couldn’t tell if this person, whoever they were, wanted the billionaire and his son, or Iron Man and Spider-Man - but that didn’t matter now. All that did was that they  _ get out _ , now, before anything happened to Peter.

Peter took a shaky breath and Tony placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Pete, everything’s gonna be okay. My suit will be here any second-”

Tony looked up suddenly when the door to their room opened and he instantly readjusted himself, shifting his body so he was effectively blocking Peter’s. He stood and clenched his arms into fists at his side as a woman entered the room, long hair flowing down her back and skin so icy pale it matched the sentiment behind her mischievous grin. Tony’s scowl deepened. This woman thought she could play with them? Tony would show her what a mistake she had made.  _ Never  _ mess with his kid.

Tony spoke before she could even get a word out.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded angrily, the smirk she wore just upsetting him further. “Where are we-”

Peter peeked out from around Tony’s torso and watched in seemingly slow motion as the woman’s smile grew wider. She opened her mouth… and  _ screamed _ .

Peter doubled over in pain. His hands flew up to cover his ears as he toppled off the bed. The pain that erupted in his side from the fall was  _ nothing  _ compared to the horrid sounds echoing around his skull. He felt something warm on his hands - blood? - before the screaming stopped and Peter gasped, his hands scrambling for a grip on the floor.

His senses were disoriented. Black spots danced before his eyes. The sounds were still echoing in his head, and his nerves seemed to be trembling inside him, so much to the point that his hands couldn’t find traction on the floor and he lay still, breathing heavily - until he felt a hand make its way around the front of his neck, fingers beginning to squeeze.

Peter’s eyes widened and he desperately reached his hands up to claw at the attacker, legs beginning to kick wildly. His vision was impared, he couldn’t see properly, he was  _ confused _ -

The attacker sent a punch to Peter’s right cheek, still holding his neck, and his head snapped to the side.

He couldn’t get in a breath. His lungs were empty as he fruitlessly tried to inhale and he was fighting, fighting, his vision was fading and he was  _ fighting _ -

And then, his attacker’s face came into view.

Peter froze of his own accord, his body involuntarily convulsing with the effort to  _ take a breath _ \- because there, standing above Peter with their hand on his throat, was Tony, his eyes dark and intense and…  _ empty _ .

“Mis- Mister Stark-”

Peter’s words were quiet and raspy, barely making a sound over the alarm bells in his own mind. His vision was fading, his strength was weakening, his throat was dry, his chest  _ hurt _ -

“Okay,” Peter heard a woman’s voice, soft and gentle and far away. “That’s enough.”

The pressure was removed from Peter’s throat and he immediately rolled to the side, coughing against the carpeted floor. His chest hurt, his throat hurt, he was struggling to take a breath, but  _ get away get away danger danger danger- _

Peter rolled himself to a sitting position and scrambled away from his attacker, chest heaving with his heavy breaths. He looked up, eyes wide, to where Tony was kneeling on the ground, not too far away from him, looking down at where his right hand was still formed in a claw - then, looking up at Peter. Peter subconsciously flinched and inched himself further away. He knew it was irrational. He knew he shouldn’t be scared. Whatever Tony did, it was the woman’s fault - but even though Tony wasn’t in control of it, he did it. He had the  _ power  _ to do it.

Tony could kill Peter without even breaking a sweat.

“Peter-” Tony took a step toward Peter but the boy flinched back, his head colliding with the mattress of the bed behind him. Tony froze and held his hands in front of him as he slowly pushed himself to his feet - then, he whirled on the woman.

“What, the hell, was  _ that? _ ” he demanded, anger barely controlled in his voice as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The woman just shrugged, looking two seconds away from laughing with glee.

“That is my… security detail, you might call it.” Her voice was smooth and sweet. Hearing it, Peter might’ve actually been convinced that she was a nice woman, until he was reminded that she had made Peter’s adoptive father almost  _ kill  _ him. “These are my powers.” She held up her hands for emphasis. “I manipulate soundwaves, emotions. I bring up emotions that you don’t even know you’re feeling, make you act on them.”

Tony scowled. “You’re saying, that the reason why you made me…  _ strangle _ my child, is because somewhere deep down, I  _ wanted  _ to?” His voice was deathly quiet, and Peter wanted to run and hide just hearing it, but the woman didn’t react.

“I’m saying that, if you try to leave, if you try to go against me in  _ any way _ , well….” She leaned around Tony and shook her head at Peter. “No one will miss a little spider.”

Tony sidestepped and blocked her view of Peter. “Who are you, and where are we?” he demanded angrily, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“My name is Sandra Deel, and you’re in my home.”

Tony took a step closer and leaned over her. She didn’t seem to mind. He grit his teeth as he spoke. “Why are we here?”

She smiled, and her grin reminded Peter of that of a shark.

“Well,” she all but whispered. “You are my new husband, and you-” she pointed at Peter- “my new son."

Tony chuckled, but it was humourless, full of malice. “You’re crazy.”

“You want to rethink what you just said?”

Tony was reminded of Peter, cowering behind him because this bitch had just mind-controlled Tony to  _ strangle  _ him, and he shook his head.

“Fine.”

Sandra opened her mouth, and Tony slammed his hands over his ears.  _ Not this time, bitch _ . The sounds overcame him like a wave, but he refused to let it control him. He fought against it, and he must’ve won - because he was still in control and smiling triumphantly when he pulled his hands off of his ears.

“I refuse to let you control me-”

Tony’s speech of triumph was cut short when Sandra pointed behind him and the sound of repetitive  _ bangs _ reached his ears. He turned sharply - and was met with the horrific sight of Peter, repeatedly hitting his head against the wall.

Tony ran to his side, heart beating loudly in his ears. Peter stood, his hands at his sides, his eyes unfocused, as he slammed his forehead into the wall - once, twice, again, again, over and over and over, with enough force to crumble the drywall.

“Peter.” Peter didn’t respond. Panic rose in Tony’s throat. “ _ Peter. _ ” Still, the kid didn’t answer. Tony put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and attempted to force him back, but Peter sent a kick behind him and Tony flew a few feet away. He stood almost immediately, turning his eyes, first to Peter, whose - whose head was beginning to  _ bleed _ \- and then to Sandra, who was watching her work with a smile on her face.

“What are you doing to him?” Tony demanded, hands clenching into fists at his side and eyes bordering on crazy.

“You will fall into line, Tony,” Sandra commented calmly, and his name on her lips sent shivers down Tony’s spine.

“You’re  _ insane _ -” Tony took an aggressive step toward Sandra, but before he could advance further, the sound of repetitive thuds stopped. Tony turned his head sharply to Peter - and he saw why.

Peter had moved his hands up to his face and he was scraping his nails along his skin, over his cheeks, along his temples, deep enough to bleed. Tony’s breath got knocked out of him and for a moment, all he could do was stare a Peter’s empty eyes staring straight ahead into oblivion, the robotic movements of his arms.

“Please.” The strangled word ripped itself from Tony’s lips as he continued to watch Peter. “Yes, I’ll… I’ll  _ fall into line _ , whatever you want. Just  _ stop hurting him _ .”

Tony kept his eyes on Peter, and for a few more horrible seconds, the kid continued to move - and then, all at once, he stopped. His hands fell from his face, his eyes blinked back their normal colour. Tony’s shoulders sagged in relief and he dropped his chin to his chest, breathing deeply.

“Fine,” Sandra said quietly. “Although you could argue it was him hurting himself, and I had nothing to do with it.”

Tony bit his lip so hard, he drew blood in order to keep himself from responding. He couldn’t risk anything else happening, not again. He couldn’t  _ handle  _ anything else.

“Now that that’s settled….” Tony heard footsteps approach, and Sandra’s voice was louder when she spoke again - but first, she placed two fingers under Tony’s chin and lifted it so his expression of angry submission was meeting hers of gentle triumph. "Chain him back to the bed."

Sandra reached a hand somewhere behind her - Tony was too livid to remove his eyes from hers to see exactly where - and brought it back in front of her, holding two pairs of handcuffs.

Tony slowly reached his (trembling, he noticed) hand and took the handcuffs from her, the  _ clang  _ that emitted startling his already frenzied nerves. He raised his chin at her before taking a deep breath and turning to Peter, the boy's face red with white lines running vertically down it, a thin trail of blood dripping down from his hairline. It took all the strength Tony could muster to quiet his voice and put a reassuring smile on his face.

"Peter?" he called gently. "Come over here, bud. Lie down." Peter hadn’t moved. He slowly raised his wide, terrified eyes up to Tony’s and shook his head. Tony clicked his tongue, hoping it would sound playful, and took a step toward Peter, close enough to gently grab his wrist. He guided the boy toward the mattress, and thankfully, Peter didn’t fight him.

“C’mon,” Tony murmured soothingly as he sat on the edge of the mattress beside Peter, avoiding the boy’s eyes as Tony moved his hands to Peter’s shoulders and gently pushed down until Peter was lying flat.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered as Tony grabbed his wrist and gently began to pull it up toward the headboard. “I don’t want to.”

“I know, Peter,” he whispered as he clicked the first cuff into place around his wrist. He held back a flinch at how severe, how final it sounded.

“I’m scared.”

Tony finished with the handcuffs and looked back down to Peter, a small smile on his face.

“I need you to be brave, okay?” He reached a gentle hand up and pushed Peter’s curls back as the boy nodded. Then, he slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against Peter’s forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back. “You’re doing great, okay? I love you.” Peter nodded once more, and it took all of Tony’s control to look away from him and stand from the bed, turning back to Sandra.

She smiled contently at Tony as he stood. “I love seeing my boys get along.” Tony swallowed the bile in his throat and glared at her as she held her hand out, gesturing toward the second bed. “Now, you.”

Tony crossed the room quickly to lie on his own mattress and close his own handcuffs with slight difficulty, barely hearing them click into place through his rage. (The reason he moved so quickly, he realized later, was because he wasn’t going to let Peter endure the restrainment alone.)

Sandra stepped forward to stand between the beds. “Now, I know little Peter here-” A shiver ran up Tony’s spine- “can break out of these easily, but I suggest he doesn’t. Because, see, if either of you even  _ touches  _ those cuffs, I will make you fight each other with all of your might - but not until the death, no, until the  _ verge _ . Then I will bring you back to yourselves just in time to see the light fade from their eyes.” She finished with a small smile, a dead look in her eyes. “Do you understand?” She immediately spun on her heel and left the room without waiting for an answer, closing the door behind her, and Tony dropped his head back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, knowing Peter was watching him - and so, he couldn’t show honest emotion. He couldn’t show how fucking  _ terrified  _ he was.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter said quietly. He had been calling Tony that since the adoption, because that’s when he’d been calling Tony beforehand during the internship, and old habits die hard - but Tony didn’t mind. It had become a term of endearment, and right now, it was a beacon of hope Tony would cling to.

Tony turned his head to the side and gave Peter a small smile. “Yeah, Pete?”

“I- I can break the handcuffs-”

The panic that entered Tony’s heart was indescribable. He shot upright, but the chains clung loudly against the headboard, and Tony flinched. “No, Peter, don’t touch them.”

Peter froze and looked at Tony with wide eyes. The man sighed and slouched back down to his mattress.

“I just don’t want to risk anything, Peter, okay?” he whispered, and Peter nodded, dejected. Then-

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighed- but not out of frustration; out of desperation, wanting to be able to console a child without knowing how. “Yes, Peter?”

Peter hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Tony answered quietly, reaching his unchained arm between the two beds. Peter followed suit, and their hands connected in the space between the mattresses. “But, listen, you just do what she says, okay? Don’t defy her in any way, and we’ll… we’ll get out of here soon enough.”

“Will we?”

Tony picked up his head from the pillow. “Of course we will, Pete-”

“ _ How? _ She has your suit, she has control of  _ us _ . No one knows where we are, and even if they did, she’d just take control of them, too! She’s too powerful, Mr. Stark, and she’s  _ insane _ -”

“ _ Peter _ ,” Tony scolded, and the boy fell silent, clearly unhappy. “It’ll be  _ okay _ , alright? I’ll take care of it, or the team will find us. Everything will be  _ fine _ .” Tony rubbed his thumb over Peter’s knuckles soothingly.

“Yeah. Okay,” Peter breathed, nodding steadily. “Okay.”

Tony smiled and pulled his hand from Peter’s grip, turning onto his back. “Get some rest, okay? Maybe try to get some sleep. Things will be better when you wake up, I promise.”

As Tony stared at the ceiling, one hand fixed above his head and the other resting on his stomach, he heard Peter readjust himself on the bed before finding a comfortable position and sitting still, trying to fall asleep, while Tony couldn’t even find it in him to close his eyes.

Peter was right. As of now, there was no hope for them. Tony was too terrified to act out, the image of his hands on Peter’s throat, pressing tighter and tighter, unable to control himself as his mind yelled at him to  _ stop, let go, stop, you’re hurting him _ , playing on a constant loop in his mind.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled angrily through his teeth. How could he promise something like that? How could he promise Peter they’d be okay when they so clearly  _ wouldn’t  _ be? Tony had done dozens of calculations, run dozens of scenarios, since he’d woken up here, and none had been successful. As of now, there was no way out.

Their situation was hopeless.

Quickly losing faith and motivation, Tony forced himself to close his eyes, tried to relax himself as much as possible in order to sleep. Maybe he should take his own advice. Maybe things would be better, a solution would be clearer, when he woke up from a sleep that wasn't induced by an enhanced crazy woman. Well, he might as well try.

Tony leaned his head back onto his pillow and took a long, deep breath. And then another. And then another.

He had taken 5,762 breaths by the time Peter woke up the next morning, and never slept once.

⑇

Peter woke slowly at first, drifting in and out of consciousness - and then, all at once, bolting upright, his handcuffs clanging loudly against the headboard. He forced his hand to fall slack just in time to keep the handcuffs from breaking. Part of him wanted to test this lady, this  _ Sandra _ , but the other part couldn’t help thinking of how  _ terrified  _ Tony looked when Peter suggested breaking them, how he was adamant Peter refrain from doing so. Peter didn’t like seeing Tony…  _ scared _ . He wasn’t used to it, so the fact that Tony seemed to be bypassing scared and going straight to terrified? Peter realized he’d better listen.

“Mm… Pete?” Peter heard Tony’s voice slur, and he looked to the side to see Tony sitting upright, one arm bent at an awkward angle so his hand could remain fixed to the headboard. “You alright?”

Peter couldn’t answer.  _ Was  _ he alright? If he was trapped alone, he’d say yes, because he’d trust Tony to rescue him. But now he was trapped  _ with  _ Tony, and even that would’ve been okay, if Tony wasn’t terrified himself.

“Peter?”

“Mhmm,” Peter responded simply, not having the energy to elaborate.

“Look at me.”

Peter dragged his eyes up to Tony and began to gnaw on his lip. Tony sighed.

“We’ll be fine, Peter, remember? I promised you.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, though he didn’t actually believe it. “Okay. So… what do we do now?”

Tony shrugged. “Wait, I guess.”

They weren't waiting for long.

Just a minute later the door opened and Sandra stepped into the room (Tony was convinced she had set up some kind of alert system for whenever they woke up) and smiled at the pair of them so kindly, it made Tony’s skin crawl.

“I hope everyone had a nice night?”

“Get on with it,” Tony grumbled. He’d been kidnapped, tortured, held at gunpoint, whatever, more times than he could count - but when the kidnapper was  _ nice?  _ When they feigned kindness and acted like actual, genuine people? That was where Tony drew the line.

Sandra clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I thought you would’ve learned by now not to open your mouth.”

“Just tell us what you want from us.”

“But I already did, don’t you remember? You’re going to be my new family.”

Tony grit his teeth. “And as your  _ family _ ,” he spat at the same time he thought,  _ crazy bitch _ , “what do you expect from us?”

Sandra put on a phony smile. “Breakfast, of course.”

“Of course,” Tony muttered. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even scared anymore. Sandra wasn’t as dangerous as she was delusional. Just play along, he guessed, and things would work themselves out.

As Sandra stepped forward to unlock their cuffs, Peter first, with the typical warning of  _ don’t try anything or I’ll make you kill each other yada-yada _ , Tony couldn’t help but wonder where the team was. It had been at least 12 hours. They most definitely would’ve been notified by now, and Steve, Natasha, Rhodes,  _ someone  _ should be busting down that door any minute - but they weren’t here yet, and Tony, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why.

Whatever. They were the  _ Avengers _ , and Tony and Peter were two of their own, so they would make their way over eventually. Until then, as much as Tony hated playing the role of the damsel in distress, he was going to have to - at least, where Peter was involved.

Sandra unlocked Tony’s cuffs and he sat up, immediately being met with an armful of Peter. Tony felt the boy quivering against his chest and rested a gentle hand over his curls, blinking up at the ceiling.

This woman was fucking  _ insane  _ to be doing this to a child. Why did all the bad things always happen to Peter?

“Boys,” Sandra called in a singsong voice from the doorway, and Tony grit his teeth together to keep from cursing as Peter’s quivers grew more violent. “Pancakes are getting cold.”

Tony forced his voice to sound lighthearted as he leaned down to put his lips beside Peter’s ear. Just the two of them. “Hear that, bud?” he whispered, feeling Peter’s trembling subside. “Pancakes. You  _ love  _ pancakes.”

“Poison,” Peter whispered back.

“I know. I’m one step ahead of you. I promise you, you won’t be eating anything until I can prove it’s safe.”

Peter nodded once and Tony pushed them both up to their feet, walking with Peter pulled so tightly against his side he was almost pressed against Tony’s chest. As they walked toward Sandra, her smile grew - and so did Tony’s scowl - and she turned and led the way out of the room.

Tony tried to observe as much as he could, but there wasn’t a lot to look at: carpeted floors, beige wallpapers, and a round table with three chairs just a few steps outside of the bedroom. There was a single, white door on the opposite side of the table, but Sandra took the seat nearest it and smiled at Tony pleasantly, like she could read his thoughts. He wasn't getting through that door. Tony just scowled and guided Peter to one of the other chairs, taking a seat to the boy’s left.

From what Tony could discern, this was all he and Peter had access to: a windowless room with two beds and a wardrobe, and a round table with three chairs. What was beyond the door Sandra was sitting in front of wasn’t available to be accessed by Peter and Tony, at least, not now - but there must’ve been a stove or whatever behind there, because Tony wasn’t sure how Sandra would’ve gotten the two plates of pancakes that now sat on the table otherwise.

Sandra pulled one of the plates toward herself with a “ _ Dig in _ ” and began to eat, leaving Tony to look toward the one left for him and Peter.

“Actually,” Tony interrupted before she could use one of the two forks on the table (Tony didn't notice the signs). “I’d rather that plate, if you don’t mind.”

Sandra smiled, genuinely smiled, and slid the plate across the table top.

“I love seeing you take initiative.”

Tony swallowed the bile in his throat and accepted the plate. It must be safe if she was about to eat from it, right?

He pushed it beside him to Peter and the boy reached for the second fork on the table when Sandra moved all at once, pushing a sudden hand forward to slap him on the wrist. Peter recoiled and Tony immediately lurched to his feet, inching between Peter and the table, putting that many more barriers between him and Sandra. She remained seated at the table, beginning to cut into her plate of pancakes, as Tony towered over her, glaring down. He was two seconds from hurdling across the table and punching her through the wall behind her. Hey, he would get to find out what was on the other side of that door.

“Oh, he doesn’t need the food,” she said simply, still cutting into her pancakes.

Tony’s mind went blank. “ _ What? _ ” he managed to growl through gritted teeth.

Sandra just shrugged. “He can afford to lose a few pounds. Come on, darling, sit down, eat-”

Tony slammed his hand on the table and the silverware rattled. Sandra just looked up like it was a minor inconvenience.

“What, the  _ hell _ , are you implying?” he asked, voice deathly quiet. He heard heavy breathing from Peter behind him, but Sandra remained as emotionless as ever.

“My mother starved me. It’s not the end of the world. It’ll do him some good. Discipline him. Plus….” She shrugged, lifted a piece of pancake to her lips. “Our child needs to look good.”

Tony began to quiver with rage. “He is not  _ our  _ anything,” he spat, hands clenching into fists. “He is  _ my  _ son and you are the psychotic  _ bitch  _ that kidnapped us.”

Sandra set down her fork and leaned forward like she was trying to intimidate Tony, but he wouldn’t back down. He  _ couldn’t _ , not when she was threatening starving his child. Not when she was calling Peter  _ hers _ .

“Might I remind you, Tony, of my capabilities. Of what I can make you do, to  _ each other _ -”

“I couldn’t care less,” he spat, and she shrugged.

“I know you were sentient when you attacked him,” she said quietly, and Tony’s heart seemed to stop beating. “I know you screamed at yourself to stop, but for the life of you, you couldn’t. Not even for your child, for your own baby boy.”

“No,” Tony whispered, practically choking on the word. He didn’t want to remember,  _ don’t make him remember _ -

“I know you remember the feeling of your hands around his throat,” she continued, and Tony dug his nails into his palms. He remembered, of course he did, watching as Peter tried to shove him away, tried to get him to stop.

He remembered watching Peter’s eyes beginning to roll back in his head, his struggles getting weaker.

Tony remembered thinking he was lucky Sandra was there to stop him.

“I know you remember almost killing your own child.”

Tony collapsed back into his chair and let his forehead fall into his hands. He tried to think of an answer, a way out of this, but she was  _ right _ , fuck, she was right. He remembered, he remembered it  _ all _ , and he couldn’t let it happen, not again. He would do  _ anything  _ to keep it from happening again. He wouldn’t harm Peter. He refused to.

He’d have to do what she said,  _ anything  _ she said. Starving Peter was better than- than outright…  _ killing  _ him, right? And he wouldn’t be starving Peter, he’d just be… letting it happen.

But that was  _ worse _ .

Tony raised his head, feeling completely and utterly  _ defeated _ . He felt exhausted, despite having just woken up (could you wake up if you hadn’t slept?). He reached a trembling hand out and pushed the plate of pancakes to the centre of the table.

“Me, neither.”

Sandra narrowed her eyes, her voice deadly quiet, threatening. “What?”

Tony just shook his head, not having the energy to try to look even  _ remotely  _ defiant. “I’m not eating if he’s not eating.”

“Not an option.  _ You  _ have to eat.  _ He  _ doesn’t.”

“And what if I continue to say no?”

“Option B.”

Tony gnawed on his lip before sudden realization hit him and he sat up straighter, shaking his head. “No,” he said simply, quietly. “You wouldn’t do that. You want a husband and a child so bad, you wouldn’t let us kill each other.”  _ It would break your nonexistent heart. _

Sandra leaned back in her chair. “I hear Hawkeye has some children, or Ant-Man. I could always give them a visit.”

Tony’s heart dropped to his shoes and Peter gave a strangled sound of protest from behind him. That was drastically worse than their current situation, and they both knew it. Barton and Scott’s kids were  _ young _ , and they… they had a full, proper, functioning family. There was no way Tony would let that happen. Peter… Peter was older, at least, and he was enhanced. He could fare better than anyone else.

Tony just wished he didn’t have to.

“So, what?” Tony sighed, conceding defeat. “You want  _ me  _ to eat, but not him. Is that it?”

Sandra nodded. “Exactly.”

Tony stared at her unchanging expression for a moment, his heart sinking to his shoes. Then he forced his head to turn. He forced himself to look at Peter, expecting hatred, begging,  _ something _ .

He didn’t expect the smile Peter was giving him.

“It’s okay,” Peter said quietly, and Tony felt tears spring to the back of his eyes. Dammit, why was his kid to inherently  _ good?  _ “Please, Mr. Stark, it’s alright, I can handle it.”

Tony watched Peter for a few more seconds, the younger nodding slowly, Tony gnawing on his lip. He didn’t  _ want to.  _ He didn’t want to indulge in- no, he didn’t want to experience  _ basic human rights  _ when his own child wasn’t allowed to! That was parenting rule number one: never take something from your child to keep it for yourself. Never deprive your child of something to better benefit  _ you  _ \- but that’s exactly what Tony was doing, what he was  _ about  _ to do.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes for a moment.  _ The lesser of two evils. Do this to ward off something worse. Do it. It’s just a pancake. Do it. It’s fine, Peter’s telling you to. Do it, do it, DO IT- _

Tony forced himself to look down at the plate on the table, grabbed the butter knife and fork in front of him so tightly his knuckles turned white, cut his pancake the most aggressively a person had ever cut a pancake throughout history, and shoved a piece into his mouth, chewed until he swallowed, anger never dwindling.

It was just a pancake, sure, but it also felt like a betrayal to Peter.

And as Peter was his son, that betrayal was the worst he could possibly commit.

Sandra smiled across from him. “Thank you,” he heard Peter whisper from behind him, but he couldn’t react to any of it. He kept his eyes down and finished his breakfast, because Sandra wasn’t making any actions that showed she would let him leave otherwise.

Not once did he lift his eyes from the table.

Not once did his tears subside.

⑇

Once Tony had finished that painstaking breakfast, feeling Peter’s eyes on his back the whole time (Tony swore to himself he’d never eat pancakes again), Sandra had brought them back into the original room and secured them to their respective headboards, once again issuing her standard warning. The entire way there, and even after they were in their beds and Sandra had left the room, Tony didn’t speak to Peter. He could barely even  _ look  _ at him. (But if he spoke, Tony wondered, would Peter answer? Would he look back?)

“Mr. Stark,” Peter pleaded, but Tony wouldn’t look at him. He  _ couldn’t _ . “Mr. Stark, please, it was what you had to do! I’d rather I starve than you-”

“You’re my  _ child _ , Peter,” Tony whispered as he stared up at the ceiling. “It’s my responsibility to take care of you before myself, and I just did the complete opposite of that.”

“You had no other choice.” Tony didn’t answer. Maybe deep down, he knew Peter was right, but he couldn’t admit it - because in his own mind Tony realized what he had done was  _ wrong _ , and no one could convince him otherwise.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly after a minute. “Why don’t we just… try to  _ leave?  _ I mean, isn’t this the case with anyone that ever takes you? You try to leave, they catch you, they kill you. The stakes are the same-”

“No.” Tony shook his head quickly. “No, they’re so  _ drastically  _ different, Peter, don’t you see? It’s- It’s because  _ you’re  _ here, and I can’t risk you.”

“But I’m strong, I can handle it-”

“ _ Peter _ ,” Tony growled, and the boy fell silent. “I won’t try to escape, and that’s  _ final _ . I refuse to put you in danger.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment, but Tony heard his breathing escalate- and finally he answered quietly, “Okay.” A pause. “But I will.”

Tony didn’t have time to ask what Peter meant before he heard the sound of chains breaking, and his heart jumped into his throat. His head shot to the side and,  _ crap -  _ Peter was standing between their beds, a bright fire beginning to burn behind his eyes.

“ _ Peter! _ ” he scolded, anger beginning to burn hot in his veins. How could Peter betray him like this? Didn’t he see, didn’t he know they danger they were in-

“Now or never, Mr. Stark,” Peter urged - but before he could react, Tony heard something that made his heart beat twice as fast. Footsteps outside the room, and they were coming closer.

“ _ Tony _ ,” Peter hissed, and Tony’s wide eyes snapped to him. Should Tony try to escape with Peter, or would it be worse if Sandra caught the both of them? Should he take the risk, or would he fail?

Tony didn’t have time to answer, because the doorknob in the corner of the room was beginning to twist.

“ _ Go _ ,” Tony barely had time to say before the door opened and Sandra stood, looking  _ furious _ \- but she was too late.

There was already a Spider-Man-sized hole in the wall from where Peter had escaped the room, only the sky visible beyond it from what Tony could see - but Peter was going to be okay. He had  _ powers _ .

But Sandra was currently giving Tony a look that made him think it wouldn’t work out that way for him.

⑇

Peter scrambled down the side of the building they were being held in, an old and ugly abandoned warehouse from the outside, and looked in despair at the old factories that surrounded him. It seemed they were in a ghost town - but Peter couldn’t stop to look for souvenirs, he had to  _ run _ .

He took a right around the nearest building, then a left around another with smokestacks, headed between that one and another with pipes up the side until their prison ( _ and Tony _ , Peter thought with a pang in his chest) was a few confusing turns behind him. Then, he caught sight of New York skyscrapers rising like a beacon of hope above the factories - and they weren’t that far away, either.

Without another moment of hesitation, Peter ran toward them.

⑇

Fifteen minutes later, running at his full Spider-Man speed with his full Spider-Man endurance, Peter stood in front of the Avengers tower. He hurried inside to the elevator tucked into the back corner for Avengers use only and Friday recognized his face and allowed him access, bringing the elevator doors to a close and allowing it to rise to the private main floor.

Peter didn’t worry about hiding his identity, or anyone noticing that he was granted access to the official Avengers elevator. If anyone asked he guessed he could always pass it off as a glitch (if anyone believed Tony Stark had made an error in his programming), but right now that wasn’t his main issue. It was that Tony had been left alone with that psychopath for about 17 minutes and with each extra second this  _ stupid elevator  _ took to reach his floor she could be doing more things to hurt him and-

The elevator came to a halt and the doors finally opened, Peter careening out of them to almost run into Steve on the other side. He looked at Peter with mild annoyance, bringing his left hand up to stabilize the coffee mug in his right.

“ _ Tony _ ,” Peter gasped before Steve could get a word out. “She has him. He’s in danger, we have to go, get the team  _ now _ -”

“Whoa, Pete.” Steve reached his hand behind him to set the mug he was holding on the counter before resting his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“Who has Tony? What’s going on?”

“Sandra Dee.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, fighting to remember. “ _ Deel _ . Sandra Deel. She can brainwash people, Steve, and she has him and I left him and we have to save him-”

“Friday,” Steve interrupted Peter as he ran into the elevator and the boy fell silent, following him.

“Alerting those in the building. Romanoff, Wilson, Rhodes,” Friday’s voice answered as the elevator doors closed and the elevator began to rise, quicker than before, to the roof where the helicopter was. Standard procedure for an Avengers-level threat.

Steve turned to Peter, brow furrowed and eyes serious. “What happened?”

“She- she took us,” Peter stuttered. “We blacked out and woke up chained to these  _ beds _ . She said she wanted a- a husband and a kid, and she can  _ brainwash  _ people, Steve, by doing this- this  _ awful  _ yelling-”

“So she followed you to the lakehouse?”

Peter froze. “What lakehouse?”

“The message you two left me. You said you were heading there for the weekend.”

“We never-” Peter froze and shut his eyes, realization crashing over him like a wave. “She must’ve brainwashed us to send the message. It was after the battle with Doc Oc. She came out of nowhere and this horrible noise- I just blacked out.”

The elevator doors opened revealing the Avengers’ glorified locker room, weapons lining the walls, and Steve jogged through it to the shelf where his shield was kept, anxiety obvious on his features.

“Haven’t we come up with enough solutions yet without having to deal with brainwashing?” he muttered under his breath as he found his shield and slid it onto his arm as Natasha and Sam stepped into the room. They headed to their stations and Peter figured he’d better follow their leadiand find his web shooters.

“What’s going on?” Natasha demanded as she slid her widow bites onto her wrists and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Suits?”

“No time,” Steve answered as James reached their floor, already in his full War Machine outfit - probably from Tony’s lab. The group fell into step behind Steve, all with their bare minimum weapons to properly attack, as they headed toward the nearby helicopter and the roof began to open above it.

“Peter and Tony weren’t at the lakehouse. They were taken last night and brainwashed to send that message," Steve explained, voice strong but awfully calm for the situation as the five of them boarded the aircraft and the doors shut behind them. Peter automatically went to the GPS system to select a safe point near enough to the building Tony was being held in to efficiently attack, but far enough to have time to land and prepare.

“Brainwashed by who?” James asked as the plane began to take off.

“Sandra Deel,” Peter answered, forcing his breathing to calm. Sure, he was a minor in a group of four fully-trained Avengers and they were all going on a rescue mission, so he had a  _ right  _ to be scared - but he was the only one with the information they needed. He had to keep a level head, because, as weird as it was, they had all prepared to leave within a minute after a few semi-coherent sentences from him.  _ He  _ was leading this rescue mission.

Peter recounted the basics of the story for them - how he and Tony got taken, where Tony was now, what Sandra wanted, but leaving out the part of her starving him - and by the end of the story Natasha’s face was morphing into one of recognition.

“Shriek,” Natasha said quietly once Peter had finished. “I encountered her once before, a long time ago. I barely got out of there alive. At least I was able to rescue the father and daughter she had taken for her  _ family _ .” Natasha said the word with disgust. “She's been doing this for a while. She’s dangerous. Screams, and you're completely at her will. We’re going to have to be careful.”

“This plane is fully stocked, right? Sound-proof headphones?” Sam contributed, and Natasha walked to the shelves opposite the group to look for them. “We can put them over our earpieces, keep our coms in. Attach mics to our shirts or whatever. We won’t be able to hear ourselves speak, so we won’t be able to regulate our volume, but others will hear us. It’s the only solution we’ve got.”

Natasha returned with the headphones and mics just as the GPS announced they were arriving and passed them around, everyone looking worried as they held them. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was the only one they had.

The helicopter came to land and the door slid open, all five of them looking out, worried. This villain,  _ Shriek  _ \- she was nothing without her voice, they assumed. They just had to go in, get Tony, and get out. Drop her off at the nearest police station with duct tape over her mouth or whatever, and that would be it. Easy.

Right?

⑇

Tony sat at the damn breakfast table, his entire body feeling heavy - though, rather it was from the Iron Man suit Sandra had him don or the fact that she was forcing him to sit still, he didn’t know. All he knew was that she had total control of him, and the Avengers were coming. Tony didn’t know what he hoped for more: that they  _ wouldn’t  _ find Sandra first, because if they killed her there would be no way to stop the spell on him, or that they  _ would _ , on the off chance they’d distract her long enough for Tony to get  _ far  _ away.

Tony knew what he was capable of. He knew what his  _ suit  _ was capable of.

He knew that if he was forced to attack his friends and- and his  _ child _ , it would be devastating.

Tony heard- no, fuck, he  _ couldn’t _ . He couldn’t have heard footsteps… right in the next room, the bedroom, coming closer and closer….

His body tensed in anticipation. He knew, the second he saw anyone he considered a friend, he would attack, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. He wouldn’t be able to  _ speak _ , to warn them. Sandra had told him about it as he sat, frozen in the chair. She had made him dress in the Iron Man suit, minus the helmet, which she had clicked into place  _ herself _ , and he could do nothing but watch - similar to now, as he watched the unmistakable design of Captain America’s shield pierce through the door leading to the bedroom.

Okay, Steve… Steve was good. Siberia, right? Maybe he could stop Tony before Tony could… could kill him. Maybe Steve could kill Tony first.

The shield pulled back and hit the door again, and again, and again - but no Steve yet. No triggers. For now all Tony could do was sit still and fight with all his might to get out of the suit, lift his gauntlet to shoot himself in the head, scream out,  _ anything _ , but he couldn’t. He was forced to sit still and watch as Steve’s face poked through the hole the shield had made in the door - and then, he attacked.

Tony’s body lurched forward involuntarily, and he couldn’t even shout - his lips were pinched together no matter how hard he tried to pull them apart. He lifted his arm and shot, a scream fighting to tear its way from his lips, but Steve dodged and rolled out of the way. As Tony advanced on the door he heard - who, Sam? - shout, “She’s got Tony in the suit under her control. Find her, Romanoff-”  _ Natasha _ ? She was here, too? And-

Oh, no.

Just beyond the door was Peter, his eyes wide, and he wasn’t even in his suit.

The sight of him, the thought that so many people were here that Tony could harm or even  _ kill _ , would’ve stopped him in his tracks, if he  _ could _ . Instead he continued to advance, despite the straining to  _ stop stop just fucking STOP _ , and he stepped through the hole in the door.

He barely had time to count Steve to his right, Sam in front of him, and Peter to his left, and just enough time to pray,  _ not Peter, please not Peter _ , before he raised his gauntlet - and it was immediately shoved aside by Steve’s shield.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve panted as he lifted the shield once more and slammed it into Tony’s chest, and he went stumbling back. “I know this isn’t you.”

_ Don’t apologize _ , he thought angrily as he felt the gallagher prepare to shoot, but Sam kicked him in his chest and me momentarily lost his breath as he felt backward.  _ Knock me out, kill me, whatever. Just don’t fucking apologize. _

Steve and Sam followed him through the door and, thank goodness, Peter was behind them. At least he wouldn’t be Tony’s first target - and it seemed Sam and Steve weren’t holding back. He was hit by the shield one second and Sam’s kicks the next, and for a moment he thought he was going to get knocked out, and he  _ almost  _ relaxed. And then, his suit went on the offense.

He grabbed Steve’s shield with one hand and Sam’s quickly-approaching foot with the other and knocked them off balance, and to Tony’s horror he stood up, and stepped determinedly toward Peter.

Peter’s eyes grew wide and he stumbled back, not even managing to lift his arms as Tony tightened his hand into a fist and pulled it back-

Tony couldn’t even close his eyes as his fist connected with Peter’s face and the boy stumbled to the side. Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he moved toward Peter, and all the boy could do was scramble back.

_ Defend yourself _ , Tony wanted to scream, but he knew Peter wouldn’t. He knew his kid was too good, too  _ fucking good _ -

“ _ Peter! _ ” he heard Sam call, and the man stepped into his line of view before Tony sent a kick to his stomach and he went sprawling down. Tony moved closer to Peter, the entire time trying to force himself to stop,  _ stop, stop fucking moving he’s your kid and you’re going to KILL HIM _ -

“Mr. Stark.” Peter’s weak-sounding voice trembled and it crushed Tony’s heart in two, but he couldn’t stop moving and he knelt beside Peter and pinned one of his shoulders to the ground and his other hand was reaching for Peter’s throat and-

“Tony.  _ Dad _ .”

Tony’s heart fluttered in his chest and he froze. He truly, actually  _ froze _ , his body seeming to seize. He wasn’t in control, but  _ Sandra  _ didn't seem to be in control, either, and he was in equilibrium, and-

Something slammed into his back,  _ hard _ , and he collapsed with a grunt.

A  _ grunt _ .

He was making noises.

He could  _ speak _ .

Steve stepped above him and raised the shield, and Tony couldn’t move himself out of the way. He physically  _ couldn’t move  _ \- but he could speak.

“Kill me,” he gasped, and Steve’s angry expression faltered. “ _ Do it _ , Steve. She doesn’t have control. I’m frozen, but I won’t be for long-” His body convulsed and he grunted before it fell slack again, and he felt- he  _ felt  _ his mind clouding.

“Steve,” he sobbed. “Do it  _ now _ , Steve, she’s regaining control, or just- just get me o- out o-of-” To Tony’s horror his tongue began to feel heavy in his mouth and his lips fell shut yet again, but thankfully Steve got the message and he lifted his shield above his head to drive his it into the arc reactor, once, twice. Flashbacks edged their way into Tony’s mind of Siberia and when Steve was aiming to kill, but this time Tony was begging him to just  _ go faster _ . His arms were straining to fulfill their control of movement but he could barely get the fingers of the suit to twitch and- and it was  _ working _ . The suit was failing. Tony was so much less without his suit. He could be  _ stopped  _ without the suit if it would  _ just come off  _ and-

It clicked open.

Tony’s body moved instantly, acting the same way it was  _ with  _ the suit, holding out a hand to fire the repulsor, but Steve was fast. He grabbed Tony by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, forced Tony’s hands to his chest and pulled the man flush against him. It was… okay, it was a little embarrassing, but Steve was  _ strong _ . Tony couldn’t move - Steve’s grip was unrelenting, and now, they just had to wait out the storm.

As Tony’s body fought against Steve, he knew there was no way he was getting out, and so, his mind was elsewhere - mainly with Peter and Sam leaning on each other a few steps away, both watching Tony, Sam looking fed up, but Peter looking…  _ scared _ . But was it  _ for  _ Tony, or  _ because  _ of him?

_ Dad _ , Tony remembered suddenly as Steve readjusted his grip on Tony to hold him tighter, more constrictive.  _ He called me dad. _ That couldn’t have just been a distraction tactic, right? Peter had been under Sandra’s control before. He knew there was no way to stop it, no way to talk someone out of it, so he must’ve meant it.

He must’ve  _ meant it _ .

Peter had called Tony  _ Dad _ . He thought of Tony as his dad.

And so Peter’s dad was a hand motion away from killing him.

“Get to Nat and Rhodes,” Steve yelled to Sam and James. “Stop her  _ now _ . Don’t kill her, or we’ll never get him back.”

Sam nodded and began to run out of the hole in the wall, stopping short when he realized Peter wasn’t behind him - because Peter was standing, frozen, his eyes fixed on Tony.

“ _ Peter _ ,” Steve demanded. “C’mon, son,  _ move _ . I’ve got Tony. He’ll be okay.”

Peter’s eyes flickered up to Steve’s, back down to Tony’s, until he nodded, beginning to follow Sam out and around the corner, not once taking his eyes of Tony’s struggling body until he was gone.

Tony finally allowed himself to relax the only way he could, mentally, when Peter left his sight, knowing now the only person he was  _ really  _ endangering was Steve - and there was no way he was touching Steve, not like this.

“You’ll be okay, Tony,” Steve said quietly, and Tony felt his own struggles getting weaker. His body was getting tired. “We’ll get you out of this. You’re okay.”

Or maybe- maybe Sandra was distracted. Maybe her powers were wearing off, because Tony could swear his lips were beginning to loosen up, enough for him to whisper, “ _ Pe’er. _ ”

“He’s okay.” Steve was speaking like this was a normal conversation, like he wasn’t even struggling to hold Tony back. “You didn’t hurt him too bad. He knows it wasn’t you.”

Tony fell silent, satisfied, until his muscles loosened up just a few moments later. He fell slack in Steve’s arms and Steve gently lowered them to the floor, Tony having no energy to push away from his chest.

His mind was clear, the clouds gone. He moved his jaw and it opened with a slight  _ clack _ , and he unfurled his fingers from where they were still between his and Steve’s chest just to check, and, yup - fluid motion. Fluid,  _ conscious  _ motion.

He was back to normal, and the relief made him want to cry.

“Tony’s clear,” Steve muttered into his mic. “Take her out.”

Tony let his eyes fall closed as he leaned against Steve’s chest. He would deal with the ramifications, the embarrassment, of this tomorrow. Until then, he wanted to be able to touch his friends without having the urge to kill them.

Peter ran into the room a moment later, eyes searching frantically, and Tony found the strength to haul himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Steve rose with him and rested a steadying hand on his back as Peter ran forward and into Tony’s waiting arms.

Tony placed a hand on the back of Peter’s head and held him as tight as he possibly could, closing his eyes as he rested his chin atop Peter’s shoulder.

“That was scary,” Peter panted as Natasha, Sam, and James stepped into the room behind Peter. Tony didn’t pay them any mind.

“Yeah,” Tony whispered in response. “Peter, I’m  _ so sorry _ -”

“Not your fault.” Peter’s voice came out muffled, but the meaning behind it was clear.  _ Don’t blame yourself. I understand _ .

Tony allowed himself to hold Peter for just a minute longer, allowing the hands he had recently used to pin his boy to the floor reconnect with their  _ true  _ calling of affection, before pulling back slightly and moving Peter so he was pressed against Tony’s side.

He looked toNatasha and James first, nodding at them. They smiled slightly and returned it.

“She’s dead,” Natasha stated, looking over Tony’s head at Steve, and that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

Sam cleared his throat. “You, uh- you gonna attack me anytime soon?”

Tony laughed despite himself and dropped his head to his chest as he chuckled, before lifting it again and, this time, looking to Steve.

“Thank you.”

Steve shrugged with a small smile.

“How do you know it wasn’t just self defense?”

Tony bypassed the joke with a raise of his eyebrow, and Steve’s face fell solemn. Tony sighed and addressed the other Avengers while keeping his eyes on Steve.

“You guys head back to… whatever mode of transport you took to get here. I need a word with the Cap.”

Natasha, James, and Sam simply shrugged and left without an issue. Peter gently stepped out of Tony’s grip and gave him a small smile, which Tony returned, before he followed the other three out of the open doorway. Now it was just him and Steve.

Steve bowed his head and began to walk a slow semicircle across the room. He clearly knew what this was about.

“You weren’t going to do it.”

“Do what?” Steve feigned ignorance (pretty poorly, Tony thought), keeping his eyes on the floor. Tony sighed and scuffed his shoe against the carpet.

“You didn’t kill me.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Tony, I wasn’t going to-”

“I asked you to. I was a threat to your life, and Nat’s, Sam’s, Rhodey’s, hell, even my own kid-”

“I won’t ever kill you, Tony. There’s always another way out-”

“What happened to laying down on the wire?” Tony demanded sharply, and Steve froze. His eyes momentarily flickered up to Tony’s, but flew back to the ground. “I said I would cut the wire, find another way out. You weren’t convinced. And now you go say  _ this? _ ”

Steve’s voice was layered with barely-controlled anger. “You have a  _ child _ , Tony.”

“A child I could’ve  _ killed  _ had the bitch remained in control!”

“ _ I couldn’t do it! _ ” Steve yelled, finally raising his eyes to meet Tony’s… and they were  _ red _ . “I… I  _ can’t _ .” His voice cracked, and Tony began to gnaw on his lip. “I can’t live without you, Tony. I won’t be the one to….” Steve groaned in frustration. “Look, I didn't kill you, okay? Just like you wouldn’t kill me in that situation. Can we go back to the helicopter now?”

Tony set his jaw. “In the future, if- if I  _ ever  _ threaten  _ anyone’s  _ lives, yours, civilians, anyones  _ at all _ , I need to trust that you will do what’s right-”

“And what, kill you?”

Tony shrugged, heart feeling heavy. “If that’s what it takes.”

For a moment all they did was stare at each other, neither one caving. Steve’s expression was falling from one of defiance, to anger, to  _ sadness _ , and Tony guessed his might be doing the same. Then, without another word, Steve turned… and stormed out of the room.

Tony glowered after him, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides before he took a breath, released his fingers, cracked his neck, and followed after Steve.

Maybe he was asking too much of Steve. Maybe he couldn’t get  _ anyone  _ to do what he was asking - and so, if that was the case, he would have to do it himself. Like a self destruct mechanism. If he began to attack someone with more force than necessary, if they didn’t attack him first before he acted, then his own suit would come after him. Yes, that’s what he would do. This would never happen again.

He would set that up the moment they got back to the tower. For now, though, Tony was conscient, he was  _ sentient _ , and now he could fly back home passed a beautiful sunset with his son.

He had survived today, but there was always tomorrow.

But what the future didn’t know, was that Tony would come prepared.


End file.
